


When The Fur Flies

by AnonEhouse



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Animal Death, Animal Transformation, Canonical Character Death, Canonical torture, Gen, Happy Ending, Mild Gore, Minor Canonical Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 09:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/AnonEhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony wants to impress his father by being a hero. Unfortunately, he winds up a werewolf instead, but not to worry, he takes his medicine and hasn't wolfed out since he was a little kid. No one even knows about his furry little secret.</p><p>Until, that is, he winds up in a cave in Afghanistan, without his drugs. Well, that makes things awkward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Fur Flies

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this [ Photo prompt](http://i879.photobucket.com/albums/ab353/spook_me/Spook_Me%20Tarot%20Cards/img1_zps3629a389.jpg)
> 
> Although written for Spook Me, I don't think this is a horror or scary fic. Tony is rather a Woobie Werewolf. It's those big puppydog eyes that do it for me. There is some mild gore, but not graphic, dwelled upon, or particularly angsty.

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Howard unlocked... no. The cabinet was already unlocked. He _never_ forgot to lock up. He was careful! Little Tony was worse than a pet monkey for getting into things, including Howard's workshop. He opened the cabinet and scanned the contents. He had a few hazardous chemicals, but they were all in place. He was about to breathe a sigh of relief and invent some kind of alarm to tell him when he... there was an empty slot in a rack of test tubes. He picked it up to make sure and a tiny yellow-handled screwdriver rolled into view.

"Tony!" Frantically, Howard looked around the workshop until he saw one small, scuffed tennis shoe sticking out from under a table. He shoved the table out of his way. Tony was lying on the floor, curled on his side, one hand clutching a test tube. "TONY!" 

Tony opened his eyes and coughed, wrinkling up his nose. "I wanna be Superman," he said, and then stuck out his tongue. "Tastes nasty."

Howard grabbed the test tube. "Super Soldier Serum. You're not a soldier, Tony!" Why did Tony have to be so damn clever? Three year old children shouldn't be able to read labels, and they certainly shouldn't be able to pick locks. Howard picked Tony up and held him tightly. The serum was meant to be injected, and then activated by vita-rays, and this wasn't even the full serum, just one of the partial combinations that Erskine had used to test for toxicity on mice. He hadn't trusted anyone with the full formula. So Tony was probably fine. The partial serum hadn't done any of the mice any harm... but then... they'd all been sacrificed for autopsy within a week, so who knew what long-term effects were possible.

"Jus wanna be a hero." Tony cuddled against Howard and yawned.

***

Three weeks later, Tony's nanny showed up outside Howard's study with a fluffy brown puppy in her arms. "I've searched everywhere for the lad, Mr. Stark," she said. "He left this dog in his bed and it didn't half scare me to death when it jumped up and licked my face!" She shoved the puppy into Howard's arms. "I'd like to tender my resignation, sir."

"What. Wait." Howard put the puppy down on his desk. "You can't leave with Tony missing!"

The puppy yipped. Howard glanced down at it, and saw it nudging a couple of pens with its paws. He turned back to the nanny. "How do I know you haven't taken him!"

The woman scowled and buttoned up her coat. "I don't care how much money you have, Mr. Stark. I'll sue you for slander if you say that again!"

The puppy yodeled a howl. Howard looked down again. The pens formed a 'T' shape. Next to them was a large rubber band making a round 'O'. His slide rule and a protractor made an 'N'. The puppy wagged his tail, knocking off a 'Y' made of paper clips. Howard swallowed hard. Oh, God. Tony didn't need a nanny, he needed a petsitter. "You know what, why don't you just go. I'll waive the two weeks notice and write you a recommendation later. I know Tony's a handful. He's probably hiding under a bed somewhere, laughing at us. I'll just... take his puppy and see if it can sniff him out." Howard picked up the puppy. It was heavier than it looked, maybe twenty five pounds. He wondered if it weighed the same as Tony in human form. He wondered if the change was permanent. Tony licked Howard's chin and wagged his tail, snuggling trustingly against him. Howard didn't deserve that trust. He should have been more careful. He sat down in his chair with Tony on his lap until the nanny had gone.

"Tony?" 

The pup looked up at him and yipped.

"Lets go down to the lab. I'll... figure this out, don't worry, son." This was all his fault. He had to get Tony back to normal, had to find a way. Rogers. If he could find Rogers' body--they knew the plane went down in the Arctic- cold should preserve tissues enough to give him something to work with. The original samples were all gone, lost in some bureaucratic foul-up, and all he had left were Erskine's incomplete notes. He'd figure something out.

Late that night, or early the next morning it was hard to tell, Howard looked up from the microscope where he was studying a sample of Tony's blood. The lab was quiet. "Tony?" He stood up and looked at the pen he'd set up, padded with a few blankets and furnished with the few toys that Tony had which a puppy could manipulate. It had been reassuring watching the pup stack alphabet blocks to spell out simple words. At least Tony's mind was intact. He didn't see the furry brown shape, but then the blankets were crumpled. He walked over and looked down. "Tony," he said with a sigh of relief, seeing a perfectly normal little boy curled up in the blankets, thumb in mouth, peacefully asleep. Maybe it was only a one time event. Maybe.

***

"Why?" Tony kicked at the shiny new suitcase that Jarvis was packing. "Why am I being sent away? I didn't do anything bad!"

Daddy was standing in the doorway, blocking it so Tony couldn't run away. "You're seven years old, Tony. Stop acting like a baby! You let Nancy see you change and the poor woman has had a nervous breakdown."

Tony pouted. "Nancy... Miss King," Tony corrected when he saw the tiny frown Jarvis made when Tony was being disrespectful. "Miss King almos' had a nervous breakdown when she saw my pet spider. And it wasn't even a _real_ spider!"

Daddy sighed. "You have to learn discipline. Last month you chased a fire truck."

"I was bored! You won' let me go to regular school or have any friends!" The only time Tony got to see anyone who didn't work on the estate was when he'd built something really neat, and the reporters came to take pictures. Even then Mom and Dad and Jarvis watched him every second to make sure he didn't say anything he wasn't supposed to. He knew about secrets! He was good, he wasn't going to brag about being a wolf, even though it was the neatest thing ever.

"I'm not arguing with a child," Daddy said. "You're going. You're going to have special one on one classes so you won't be tempted to show off for the other students. You're going to stay in your room on your change nights every month."

"It's not fair!" 

Jarvis strapped the suitcase up tight and carried it out of the room. He knew about Tony's wolfing out, but he didn't mind. He gave Tony Wolf cut-up steak and took him for walks on the estate so he could chase squirrels.

"I wish Jarvis was my Daddy!" Tony tried to get past Daddy, but he was caught and picked up, kicking and crying. "You don't even like me! If Cap'n Merica was a wolf, you wouldn't send _him_ away!"

"You'll understand one day, Tony. I'm trying to find Captain America for you."

"Don' care! I hate him, I hate him!" Tony cried and kicked all the way down the stairs and to the car, past Mom's worried face and the servants who tried to act as if they didn't see anything, as if Tony was invisible, not important enough to be seen. 

Daddy dumped him in the car and leaned in to buckle his seat belt. "I'm going to sit up front with Jarvis until you can act like a Stark." He touched Tony's cheek, wiping away the tears. "Starks are made of iron. Tears make us rust." Then he got into the front and Tony heard the window and door locks click. They didn't even trust him not to jump out of the car. 

It was a long ride, and Tony cried himself to sleep. He never could remember later whether it was his daddy or Jarvis who carried him to bed in his new room. When he woke, he was alone. He didn't feel like crying any more. It didn't help.

Maybe if he was really good, he could go home again some day. If Daddy ever made something to stop Tony from turning wolf, he'd do it. Being the wolf was bad. He scared people. He couldn't have any friends. He couldn't go home. Tony went into his little bathroom, nothing as nice as the one back home, and washed his face. Starks don't cry. No matter how long he stayed here, he wouldn't cry. He'd make Daddy proud of him, somehow.

***

Eight years later, Tony looked out of his dorm window. He was still getting used to his new surroundings after two months at M.I.T. It was so much different than boarding school. So much better. Of course, the downside of not having anyone telling him what to do was that he had to remember boring things. Like taking his meds. He opened the jar of Vita-Health. "That stuff's nasty," Rhodey commented from his desk, where he was going over his R.O.T.C. application. Tony was secretly just a tiny bit jealous of his roommate's plans to join the Air Force. Rhodey didn't have to worry about something weird showing up in his medical exams. Tony hadn't seen a doctor since he was a little kid. He really didn't want to be a freak any more than he already was for his brains.

"It's good for me, though," Tony said as he put a scoop of the green powder into a glass of water and stirred it briskly.

"If it's supposed to put hair on your chest, Tones, you oughta get your money back." 

"Can't. My dad has it compounded special, just for me." And it's to keep the hair _off_ my chest. Tony swigged down the green sludge without flinching. It tasted horrible, but it kept him from wolfing out. "I've been taking it since I was a little kid." The freedom it granted him in boarding school had been worth giving up the fun of wolfing. And by then, he had seen his first werewolf movie. It never ended well for the poor guys. People expected them to be homicidal maniacs. At the halfway stage of his transformation Tony looked like a scary movie monster. Or well, he guessed he would. The last time he'd changed, he'd been a pup, but it stood to reason the wolf would grow up too. At fifteen Tony wasn't exactly impressive, though, so he'd probably be a short, skinny wolf.

He threw himself on his bed and looked up the glow in the dark stars he and Rhodey had stuck there to guide them back when they were too drunk to find their beds. (Wishful thinking, neither of them had time to drink. Maybe later, when they were caught up on, you know, stuff.) Tony's bed was directly under Polaris in Ursa Minor. Rhodey's was under Mizar in Ursa Major. It should have been under Alkaid but they ran out of stars. Alkaid would have been better, because it meant 'chief of the daughters of the bier' and Rhodey was a heck of a ladies' man, when he wasn't being all gung-ho. "Hey, Rhodey, what would you do if you saw a werewolf?"

"What? Is this another of those zombie-apocalypse questions? You know, where you call me stupid for going with the chainsaw?"

"Yeah, well, that's too close-range, and you'd get splattered with zombie-virus. But no, I was thinking werewolves aren't like zombies. Usually there's only one, and hey, they haven't got rotten brains, so you could probably reason with them."

"Uh huh." Rhodey filled in another blank on the form. "Nice doggie, let me pet you. And then it bites off your arm. I'd shoot him full of silver bullets."

"Well, at short range that'd be ok. Silver's got a high shear modulus so it won't deform as much as lead and would give better penetration, but I suspect they'd be slower than lead and less accurate over a longer range." Tony tried not to think that his best friend's instinctive reaction would be to kill him. Hate to say it, but Dad was right.

Rhodey made a rude noise. "Yeah, but silver's poison to them."

"I bet that's exaggerated. It's probably an allergy." Which reminded Tony, he hadn't taken his Xolair yet this month and he was due to take a chem. lab. Never could tell what had silver in it. No fun at all going into an asthma attack on contact with the stuff. Silver was too useful to avoid, so he had to dose himself with immunomodulators. It was a nuisance being a werewolf. He got up. "Gotta see a man about a wolf. Bring you back something from Dunkin Donuts, Honeybear?"

"Jelly." Rhodey said without looking up. 

"That's not even a flavor." Tony checked that he had money. "You notice they don't call it 'grape' or 'cherry' or 'raspberry'."

"Says the guy who always goes with glazed."

Tony wandered over to place a kiss on the top of Rhodey's head, despite some flailing. "Bye, Jellybaby."

***

Tony was looking forward to graduation. Over the last two years he'd learned a lot at M.I.T. some of it actually on the curriculum. And his helper 'bot had won a prize, which was fun, even though neither of his parents had showed up for the award ceremony. He'd been a little disappointed, but he understood. They couldn't take time off for that _and_ for graduation. And it wasn't as if he needed the validation. He had the award, didn't he?

They were just busy. And under a lot of stress. Mom had her charities and her social functions and her 'little glass of sherry'. Dad had S.I. and the never-ending search for Captain America, and his 'nightcap' which seemed to Tony to start along about noon. He kept telling himself that once he was graduated he could start taking over some of Dad's work, take a little of the stress off, maybe convince them to take a holiday together, maybe get to know them on an equal basis, maybe get them to trust him, rely on him. There were a lot of maybes, but he really thought it could work. At seventeen he considered himself an adult, and hey, he'd have Obadiah to handle the boring details. Obie already did so much, he practically ran the company. Everything except R&D which was Dad's baby, more than Tony had ever been. R&D would be cake. Tony had so many ideas. 

"Tony." 

Tony glanced up from Dummy. He was on his knees in the middle of the workshop, happily tweaking the articulation and motivators. Just because he'd won the prize didn't mean it couldn't be improved. "Hey, yeah, gotta idea here to work out..."

"You got a phone call."

"Oh, if she sounded pretty I hope you got her number." Tony grinned, but Rhodey didn't return his smile. "What? What's wrong?" Dummy nudged him and he patted the arm absently without looking away from Rhodey. 

"It's..." Rhodey came close and leaned down to put his hands on Tony's shoulders. "Mr. Stane called."

"Yeah?" Tony frowned. Rhodey didn't like Obie, but he didn't usually make this big a fuss about taking messages from him.

"He said... there was an accident. A car accident."

"What?" Tony's mind was racing. He was sure there was a meaning to what Rhodey was saying, so serious, so upset. But that couldn't be what Tony thought. It just. No. "Was someone hurt?"

"Tony... your mom and dad. They... they're gone. I'm sorry." Rhodey wrapped his arms around Tony and held him tight.

Tony dropped the wrench he was holding. "What? No. That's...that's wrong. That's got to be a mistake."

 

Only it was true. Tony spent the next few weeks in a daze. He couldn't remember having eaten or drunk, but he must at least have taken his meds, because when he stood alone at his parents' grave the night after the funeral he wanted to howl at the wrongness, the unfairness, but the wolf didn't come out despite the moonlight shining to remind him of his personal calendar. Time. He was supposed to have time. He was supposed to make up for his failings, his mistakes. He was supposed to have a family.

Obie came up behind him and patted him roughly on the back. "Tony, Tony, Tony, this is no place for you."

Tony shrugged. "I just. I never got to say goodbye. And now. What do I do now?"

Obie patted him again. "You've been in school all your life. You should get out and see the world. Take a year. Take two. Then you come back and get to know the company before your takeover. Or, you know, you could sell it and be free to do whatever you like for the rest of your life. I could raise enough to buy you out."

Tony shook his head. "Stark Industries is mine. Dad always told me..." Tony caught his breath, holding back the impulse to just let it go, to just forget he was a Stark 'made of iron' and cry. Starks don't cry. He wouldn't disrespect his father that way. Not here. Not now. "I've got ideas. Plans. I can design stuff like no one's ever seen. I can make our guys the best equipped in the world." He could. He could help make Rhodey and people like Rhodey safer. Give them the edge.

Obie was silent for a moment, and then he nodded. "When you're twenty-one, it'll be yours. I'll just keep the seat warm for you, my boy." He gripped Tony's shoulder so hard it hurt, but right then, Tony felt that was right. He should hurt.

***

So Tony inherited the company and settled into a lifestyle he'd also inherited from dear old Dad. It was fine. He had his work, and he had his play, and he had enough friends to count on the fingers of one hand (if you don't include the thumb). Sure, Happy and Pepper were his employees, but that wasn't as if he was paying them to like him. It just made it convenient. And yeah, Rhodey was the military liaison with Stark Industries, which got him a few perks, but he was damn good at the job, so why shouldn't Tony 'request' him for the position? It was just a side-benefit that he got to see Rhodey more often.

And Obie- yeah, Obie needed Tony to design what the board and the buyers would like, but he needed Obie, too. They were partners and more, Obie was like his uncle, always looking out for Tony's interest. Even if he did push Tony sometimes. Sometimes Tony needed a push, which is why he let Pepper bully him. Ok, also, he liked it when people cared enough to push. A little. 

"This is an important contract, Tony. We need it." Obie played a few more chords on Tony's baby grand and then stood up and came over to put his hands on Tony's shoulders, not minding the grease from him working on Dad's roadster. "And you know how generals get when they don't have the boss do the demo. It hurts their feelings."

Tony rolled his eyes at the thought that generals had feelings. "The roadster needs a tune-up. Maybe an engine rebore," Tony protested. "You've already got me scheduled for an awards ceremony that week."

"The day before. So you'll have fun in Vegas, get your shiny award to make the little people know you appreciate their appreciation, and then go and dazzle the generals. Get it over with in a couple days and then you can do what you like for the rest of the month. I don't ask for a lot, do I, Tony? Hmmm?"

"The Jericho sells itself. It's a waste of my time."

Obie pursed his lips in his 'not quite a frown' disapproval mode. "You need to be seen being responsible. The board needs a little good publicity from you."

"The board? The board isn't in charge of me, Obie." The grip on his shoulders tightened, and then relaxed.

Obie went over to the piano and picked up his glass of whiskey. He swirled it so the ice tinkled. "You need their cooperation, Tony. You need their respect. You need them to have confidence in you." He kept looking at the whiskey, and Tony knew he was thinking about Sunset. Tony had thought she loved him. Drunk, he had tried to impress her with his latest projects, which she turned around and sold to their competitors. He was so glad he'd never mentioned the werewolf business to her.

"Hey, that was one time! Once I got a little bit plastered and said things I shouldn't. It's not like I go around writing trade secrets on cocktail napkins. I was young and stupid, all right!"

"And I took care of it for you, didn't I?" Obie came back and flung an arm around Tony's shoulders. "That's what I do, Tony. I take care of the unpleasant things for you, but you have to do some things for me, too."

Reluctantly, Tony nodded. He still didn't know how Obie had handled the Sunset situation, but a few weeks after Sunset dumped him and gloated about what she'd done, Obie had casually dropped a folder in front of Tony. It contained the original documents that Sunset had sold, and a notice that their competitors had a paradigm shift and were now making fireworks and fertilizers. "Yeah, ok. But make it two months off. There's an auto show coming up and a few other things."

***

Tony had run up the boarding stairs to his jet in a deliberately cheerful frame of mind, despite Rhodey growling like a grumpybear and Pepper having pulled him away from an ailing roadster. "Wheels up! Let's rock and roll!" Chessie... Celeste... whatever... the reporter he picked up in Vegas had been enthusiastic, and Tony was mellow enough not to mind a long, boring flight, after all, he had his best friend to keep him company.

But Rhodey continued to sulk instead of getting with the good times. That was totally unfair. So he had to wait a few hours in a luxury aircraft, with every amenity, including hot and cold running flight attendants. Hand-picked, beautiful, friendly, fun-loving flight attendants. Oh, wow, what a horrible fate. Rhodey really needed to relax.

"Saki! Yes!" Tony knew Rhodey loved saki. He should mellow right out, and then things would be fine.

 

Several hours later Tony realized he'd miscalculated. Instead of getting mellow, Rhodey had gone on a lecture tour, hitting all the high spots that Tony hated so, so much. Rhodey was a great guy, of course he had self-respect and dignity and all that. Tony had his money and his genius, and brazen charm that probably only worked (when it worked) because he had an 'eccentric billionaire' pass. He _knew_ none of that made him a worthwhile person, but it wasn't like he was evil or anything.

He made awesome stuff. He made freakin' awesome stuff that got sent out to help the American soldiers. His dad had been a selfish, drunken asshole, too. One who helped end World War Two and saved a lot of American lives. Dad had been a hero and no one had given him lectures on self-respect. 

Tony wandered off to bed, blindfolded for fun, while Rhodey was still rambling on the same tired old wheeze about the joys of being part of a team. Tony didn't want to be part of a team. He wouldn't fit in. "I'm not cut out to be a hero," he told the woman who was tucking him in. Tucking. Not fucking. Tony did try to take Pepper's words on sexual harassment of employees to heart. Sometimes he even managed it. "Do I look like a hero?" He turned over and flopped onto his stomach. "Could you give me a neck rub before you turn in?"

"Of course, Mr. Stark."

She had nice hands, warm and strong. Tony fell asleep easily, not disturbed in the least by the music still pounding away in the main cabin.

 

The next morning Tony enjoyed the benefits of an educated metabolism, cheerfully breakfasting while Rhodey gave him a reddened and very hairy eyeball. "Showtime!" Tony remarked when the plane rolled to a stop and he heard the exit steps roll up and lock. He patted Rhodey on the shoulder and then slid his sunglasses into place. "Don't worry, I got your back. You come down whenever you're ready. " Tony tossed a bottle of aspirin at Rhodey. It bounced off his chest and landed in his lap.

"I hate you," Rhodey said as he worried at the child-proof cap.

Tony grinned and strutted down the steps, enjoying the breeze and the sense of freedom after being penned up on the plane. He had an audience, so he turned on his serious businessman performance. "General." He nodded and turned to greet the other important men. "Salut." He nodded and turned to face the last of the big three. "Enchante." Fortunately, they didn't care for socialization and everyone immediately got into a convoy to take them to the test site. He glanced out of the window of the vehicle at the terrain briefly. Sand. Dust. Dry rock. Why anyone would fight over this place was beyond him... but then, Vegas was in the desert. They just needed a little glitter and neon. 

He took a few moments on arrival to arrange his signals with the Jericho operator and to make sure that his portable bar had arrived. Take care of the important things and the details will handle themselves. He gave a brief speech and then waved. Jericho performed beautifully- the shock wave even pushed him forward a few steps, conveniently in the direction of the bar. He grabbed his drink, and made a strategic exit towards the waiting vehicles while the generals were still gazing with stars in their eyes at the destroyed mountain range. Generals were just big kids, blow something up and they were impressed.

Rhodey came up behind him. "Hey, Tony, nice job."

Tony was a little, just a little, irked. If Rhodey only liked him when he was being serious, then he didn't need to be around Tony while he unwound. "I'm sorry, this is the "fun-vee." The "humdrum-vee" is back there." 

Rhodey covered it up, but Tony saw he was a little hurt. "Nice job," was all Rhodey said.

"See you back at base." That was the only part of these kind of trips that Tony really liked. He'd always insisted on a visit to a base, where he could talk with the enlisted forces, joke with them, maybe find out a few comfort items he could arrange for them. He liked soldiers. They were the real heroes. Not the generals, not the people like him who made the tools they worked with, not the politicians who sat on top of the whole pile. He admired the people who went out and put their lives on the line for their country. He liked them and just wanted them to accept him. Just wanted to make them smile and be glad they'd met him.

That wasn't too much to ask, was it?

 

One moment they were all laughing and joking and the next it was like being dropped into hell. Tony panicked. "What's going on?" Suddenly these bumbling, cheerful kids were the professionals and he was nothing but a burden on them. He tried to get a gun. Tried to help. Bursts of light and noise, shouting and a few screams and the smell of explosive residue, of over-heated metal, of blood... he hadn't wolfed in forever, but he always could smell and hear like a wolf. The sensory impressions were overwhelming; he could hardly think. He scrambled out of the shattered humvee and grabbed an abandoned weapon.

It jammed, useless. He flung it aside and looked for something else, some way to fight. Rhodey called out to him. He looked back and saw his friend, fiercely manning a gun from a turret... a target, he hadn't enough shielding, none of them had, the humvees were perforated like colanders. "GET DOWN!" Rhodey shouted at him and Tony realized he was a distraction, he'd get Rhodey killed trying to protect him. God, the whole convoy, they were dying to protect him.

He ran, stumbled, leaped and lay down into a hollowed, hummocked spot which at least put him out of direct line of sight. He grabbed his cell phone. He didn't think anyone had a chance to call for backup. Air strike, they were pinned down, got to get to the... there was a familiar sound, but close, too close... fragmentation missile, anti-personnel, and god, he was personnel. He scrambled up to run again, the sand dragging at his feet, and he saw the missile. It had landed intact, but that wasn't a failure, oh no, he saw the Stark swoosh, and he knew this baby, it was aligning itself for maximum dispersal before it blew. So elegantly efficient. He'd been proud of that one.

 

They were cutting him open! No, I'm alive! He fought, there were straps, they broke, he fell, there were shouts in languages he didn't understand, but all angry, matching the hard hands that snatched at him, that dragged him up from the rough stone floor and back onto the cold metal table, with the bright light shining in his eyes, and blood smell thick, so thick he could hardly breathe, and his chest was full of points of fire, and he howled with the pain and terror but he couldn't get away. He was tied down, held down and the knife came back and why wasn't he dead? They were cutting out his heart! 

They put a cloth over his nose and mouth. It burned, it stung, opening up, awakening old burns and making him remember they'd done this before, and he couldn't, couldn't... and he was still awake, but his eyes were shut and he couldn't fight, couldn't even close his mouth. And the cutting went on.

 

He woke up gasping and wide-eyed. His hands were free. There was a tube...he could feel it rubbing his cheek, inside his nose, and down his throat. The thing horrified him. He grasped it and pulled it out and pulled and pulled until it was gone. His throat felt raw. He smelled water and turned to grab at the source, but knocked the pitcher over. His muscles were weak as if he'd been lying in bed for days, and his chest what... what there were... wires... he pulled at them...

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Tony looked up at the calm voice and saw a tall man, not young, not particularly muscular, not armed. Tentatively, Tony labeled him 'non-hostile' although there was a distinct lack of friendliness in the man's voice. He turned his attention back to the wires which ended in a mass of gauze wrapped around his chest. He clawed at the gauze until he could see... the thing in his chest looked like an ambitious kid's science fair project, why in God's name would they do that to him? He whispered, "What the hell did you do to me?"

"I saved your life."

Tony had only part of his attention on the man's explanation. When he was tossed a glass bottle containing bits of shrapnel, he stared blankly at it, trying to understand. "What is this?" He didn't mean just the thing in his chest, but the cave and why he was still alive, and why... why did they take him... they couldn't have been planning to kidnap him, who could expect that he'd be separated from the soldiers-- airmen-- and wounded rather than killed outright. For that matter, how had they taken him? Had they killed everyone else in the convoy and then come to loot the corpses? Was Rhodey dead? It just didn't make any sense. There hadn't been any hostilities in that area for weeks which was why they'd set the demo there.

He didn't have time to figure out any answers before the doors he hadn't noticed crashed open. Oh, yeah, the guy had indicated monitoring cameras. Automatically he obeyed the man's instruction to put his hands on his head. Haphazardly dressed, but well-armed, men poured into the room. Too well-armed. They had Stark guns, and not just old stock weapons seized during raids, but shiny new, recent designs. Add that to the fragmentation missile that took him down and his stomach clenched in horror. They were using _his_ guns, guns he'd designed to protect American soldiers. How long had they had them? How many Americans had he helped kill?

He heard as if from a distant whisper, the man, the doctor, translate the demand to give these people his newest, his _best_ , his most efficient weapon. The terrorist was right, Tony was the most famous mass murderer in American history. His smirk behind it all, fucking _smug_ , because he was helping to defend his country, wasn't he? Wasn't that right? Wasn't that what made his father a hero? His father had helped design the atom bomb. But Dad didn't hand it over to the enemy. Neither would Tony. "I refuse," he said, feeling numb and horrified at the same time.

He'd thought they'd kill him, torture him first, probably, but hey, they'd miscalculate and go too far. After all, he was in lousy shape, drying out from the booze, and then there was blood loss and massive physical trauma, and oh, pieces of his _own_ metal coming home to nest in daddy's heart. Starks were made of iron, right? The fucking irony... hah...was literally killing him. What did it matter if they sped up the process with a beating?

But then they discovered the joys of water play. Drowning while being electrocuted, that was fantastically creative, considering their technical limitations. Not that Tony thought about it clearly at the time. It was all shouting and futile struggling against the hands pushing him under, trying to keep the car battery close enough to keep the wires from ripping out of his chest while his arms and hands spasmed from the jolts running through the incompletely waterproofed connections, trying not to breathe in water, trying to gasp air during the fractional seconds when he was pulled out for them to shout 'Jericho' in his ears. He should drop the battery into the water, he should... Lightheaded from pain and lack of oxygen, he imagined he heard Pepper's voice, screaming his name, and out of nowhere he remembered dad's arc reactor and saw how simple it would be to make the thing actually useful. He could _see_ it, shining, perfect, small enough to fit in his hand... or in his chest.

 

Somewhere along the line he must have lost consciousness. He woke with a start, expecting more water and more shouting and shocking, only to see the back of the doctor, presumably his fellow prisoner, unless of course he was a shill, put in with Tony to make him drop his guard. Tony didn't really think that likely, but he didn't rule it out. He wasn't thinking clearly, rambling all over the place. He shifted slightly. He was lying on a cot, naked, unless you count the steampunk crap in his chest as clothing, which Tony didn't, and the thin blanket covering him didn't do much to warm a body that had as many reasons to be chilled as his. Still rambling. He shifted and coughed, which ow, unpleasant. It was cold, always cold, which seemed weird because he knew he must still be in the desert, but in the cave his breath plumed white with the cold.

The doctor turned away from a microscope. An old one, but presumably still functional. He turned in Tony's direction and put wire-rimmed glasses on. "You're awake. So soon. Remarkable."

"Yeah, that's me." Tony shifted again to ease the tension of the wires.

"No, really. When they brought you in, you were in cardiac arrest, due to hemodilution. Secondary drowning symptoms began a while later, with your lungs flooding with pulmonary fluids."

"So, I guess you expect me to thank you? Would have been easier if you let me die." Tony still felt like shit. 

The man said mildly, "I suppose it would." He came over to Tony and helped him sit up, incidentally putting his back between Tony and the surveillance devices. He said softly, "I had nothing to do with your survival, Mr. Stark. Your blood is... unusual."

Tony swallowed hard. No. The serum. He hadn't really thought about it in years, beyond taking his meds. If the serum had granted him advanced healing powers... if that could be isolated from his blood... if this doctor could give that advantage to the terrorists...they wouldn't mind being part-time wolves, would they? They wouldn't be like Captain America, like he wasn't. They'd be flawed, but better able to kill. God, he'd given them a new terror weapon. "Is it?" he asked.

"I didn't tell them. I'm going to destroy the samples." Much louder he said, "Mr. Stark, you see it is pointless refusing to cooperate. You should give in, as I have done." Was there a slight emphasis on the last four words?

Tony turned his head to look into the man's eyes. "Yeah. You're right. I should cooperate, the same way you do." Just because this doctor did all the translating, didn't mean there wasn't an English-speaker listening to them. "Save myself a lot of pain."

"Come. Get dressed, it's cold in here."

Tony had just put on the last article of clothing; a jacket that smelled like sheep and terrorist, when the doors burst open again. He barely had time to grab his new best friend, the car battery, before a dusty, coarse-woven sack was thrown over his head and he was dragged forward. He could hear scuffling beside him, which sounded as if they were taking the doctor as well. Wanted to have him on hand for the next torture session? Tony didn't know. He hated the uncertainty as they dragged and pushed and prodded him along. After a while he realized it was taking longer than it had to bring him to the chamber with the water barrel, so they were trying something new. Ordinarily Tony enjoyed new experiences, but this... he'd rather give it a pass.

It began getting warmer, so he assumed they were nearing the surface. Oh. Maybe they'd decided to have fun with open-air torture. Or maybe they were going to make him dig his own grave; you know, a little entertainment for the boys in camp. Light came through the sack, but he didn't have time to adjust before it was ripped off his head and he was shoved, stumbling and clutching at the battery into blinding light that resolved into a canyon covered with desert camo nets, providing the illusion of shade over what looked like a swap meet jumble of Stark Industries weapons. The doctor was there, looking around with the same mildly cynical, almost amused, expression he had worn before, as if all this horror was a vulgar joke.

The doctor translated for the terrorist, a cheerful, stocky, bearded fellow who would have made a great Santa- except for the cold glee behind his eyes. Tony suspected he'd earned his laugh lines while ordering people's deaths.

 

Back in the cave, in their chilly semi-private cavern, depression rolled over Tony and it just seemed too much effort to do anything more than keep his eyes open and breathe. Not that breathing was easy. He might have healed remarkably well from surgery, but that didn't compensate for what had been removed to make room for the electromagnet. He just was tired, physically, mentally, and emotionally. He had no fire left in his engine, but then, something in what the doctor said woke a spark within Tony. He couldn't do much in a week. But he could do something to give him more time. With enough time and materials- and oh, they would give him anything he asked, wouldn't they? He was rich and spoiled, why wouldn't he roll over, belly up, and beg for his life. With enough time and materials he could do something indeed.

But time. Time was a factor in another way. "How long?"

"What?"

"Since I was brought here." He didn't have his meds. His silver allergy probably wouldn't be a consideration as he knew what materials went into his weapons and could avoid handling anything problematic. But his wolf-cycle... If that hadn't been eliminated by all the years of suppression, it would be due two weeks after the demo.

"Perhaps two or three days. We have no timepieces, no sun, no set routines," the doctor pointed out. "It couldn't have been much more than that."

It's not as if knowing would make a difference. Either he had enough time, or he hadn't. He felt the depression wash away, pushed aside by inventing fever, as the schematics for the new arc reactor meshed with an idea he'd been toying with for years, but never bothered to start because... personal, powered armor for foot soldiers? Not something the government would buy, and Obie was always disappointed when Tony made things with no commercial value. He didn't like disappointing Obie. But this, now, this could save him... save them both. The doctor was too good a man to waste. 

 

They began work. Time was even harder to judge after that, since their captors allowed them to have the light to work until they dropped from exhaustion. When it came time to pour the smelted palladium, Tony didn't trust himself to do it. The battery and the wires leading from it threw his balance off. The doctor casually reminded him that he'd saved Tony's life with the steadiness of his hands, which also reminded Tony that he'd never even asked the man's name. He'd had other things on his mind, like suspicion. He had to trust the doctor, Doctor Yinsen. 

He trusted Yinsen with the arc reactor, and daringly, with the schematics of the armored suit. It actually felt good to trust, to have, as Rhodey would have said... would still say... someone to watch his back. 

 

And then it began. Tony was beating a piece of steel into shape when a sudden cramp doubled him over. He dropped the metal and the hammer and fell to his knees. Yinsen came over and held his shoulders. "Your heart?" he asked quietly.

Tony shook his head. "I'm just... I'm hungry, maybe." He hoped it was that. He was close, so close. He looked down at his hands. Were his wrists hairier?

"Rest." Yinsen didn't bother mentioning the fact that asking for more food was out of the question. They reused tea leaves strained through a sock, and ate rice from a bag marked 'donation of the US' which was only funny the first meal.

"Need to finish." Tony tried to get up, but the ache had moved to the long bones in his arms and legs. He wasn't fooling himself any longer. The moon had caught up with him, even down here in the cave. "Oh, crap. Yinsen. Get me away from the surveillance."

"Why?" Yinsen started pulling Tony over to one of the 'blank spots' they'd arranged by carelessly setting up frames and forms in the way of the monitors. "What's wrong?"

"It's..." It was getting harder to breathe, the bones of his face were preparing to shift. The next stage would be numbness and immobility for a few minutes until the change completed. "My blood. There's... chemical. Serum. You ever..." He was panting now, and his tongue was having a hard time forming the words. "Ever hear of Captain America?"

"Yes, yes, of course." Yinsen's eyes were wide behind his glasses, but grant the man courage, he still held Tony. "But that was a permanent effect, was it not?"

"Huh.. uhh, I... drank from the wrong bottle." Tony closed his eyes because the shifting color perception was making him dizzy. "Half a serum. Three... three nights a month it builds up and..." The gloves were uncomfortable; he pulled them off and let them fall.

"You become a physically perfect man? The arc reactor, will that..."

Tony shook his head. "Dental work stayed... it will probably be all right." He didn't know. He hoped. "But not... not a man." He turned his hand and gripped Yinsen's arm for a moment. His fingers were shorter, nails longer, and the hair on the back of his hands was denser, closer to fur. "Wolf. But I swear... I'm still _me_ inside. I'm not crazy. I'm not..." He had to pause again for breath. His chest was changing shape, awkwardly adapting to the arc. "Can't talk... but won't... hurt you."

Yinsen said, "You will return to normal in the morning?"

"Shh... shhould do. Haven't done in years." Tony panted and tugged at his undershirt. "Save clothes."

"Yes. It would be awkward asking for replacements." Yinsen began undressing Tony. "Is it painful? I still have a little... but I'm not sure what your physiology would require. Anesthetics didn't work well."

Tony shook his head. The numbness was setting in. He felt the shifting bones, but it was just dull pressure and involuntary movement. Not like the obvious agony that Captain America had gone through. Trade-off. One painful permanent change to perfect man, versus repeated painless change to a monster. Tony would have gladly taken the pain. He closed his eyes while he still had that much control. He felt Yinsen moving his limbs, stripping him and tugging him to lie on his side.

"Amazing," Yinsen murmured. He touched Tony under his jaw. "Pulse is a little high. Well... for a man it would be." From the rustling sounds, Tony assumed Yinsen was neatly folding his clothes. Tony felt a forepaw lifted and placed in a more comfortable position. "I've never seen a wolf your size. Impressive."

Tony would have liked to protest as Yinsen gently opened Tony's jaws. "Quite large teeth. Very broad skull. The growth appears to be slowing. Hmmm, proportionally shorter, heavier legs than the wolves around here. Perhaps a unique species?"

Tony felt like the subject of an academic study. Well, it was better than having Yinsen run screaming. In a few minutes he would be able to move. Maybe they could...well, he couldn't hide, they always were watched... maybe Yinsen could provide a distraction while Tony went to his cot and lay down. Difficult to get a blanket over himself using teeth, but he could figure that out.

The door crashed open, and Tony heard a rush of shouting voices and running boots. He struggled to move, but it was too soon, his body was totally unresponsive. He couldn't even open his eyes. Yinsen began talking, fast and high-pitched. Tony didn't know what he was saying but the guards weren't buying it, judging from the anger in their voices. Someone kicked him, hard. His body shifted from the force of the blow. Yinsen was shouting now, too, but further away. Helpless, Tony only hoped they wouldn't hurt Yinsen, too. Someone shouted something rhythmic, like a chant or a prayer, and something cold punched into his ribs, punched in deep and twisted, while Yinsen protested. The cold thing vanished, and hot wetness flowed down his side. He smelled blood. He'd been knifed. It didn't hurt, but then nothing hurt. So. He was going to die like this, trapped in the body of an animal. They'd probably turn his coat into a rug and wipe their feet on him. He was so damn angry. It was such a waste. He finally had something to do that was real and important, and it was going to be unfinished. 

He lay there, and kept breathing. The wetness stopped flowing. He kept breathing. Yinsen said, in an awed voice, "Your wound has healed."

Huh, Tony thought. Maybe because the metal didn't stay in me. Let's hope they don't try shooting. I'm not that keen on experimenting.

There was a hush for a moment, and then one of the men began speaking, loud and fast. Yinsen said, "I'm to tell you what he says." The man spoke again, and then Yinsen said, "His grandmother told him stories. Old stories. From Abyssinia before it became Ethiopia." The man talked again.

Tony really wasn't minding this. The longer they delayed, the more chance he would be able to move and fight.

Yinsen said, "He says blacksmiths were..." He paused as if looking for a translation. "Ghosts? No, something he calls a Bouda. His grandmother said they turned into animals." Another pause. "But they turned into hyenas, or asses. Donkeys. And if you hurt the animal the man would bear the wounds."

Several men shouted, voices running over each other. Finally they stopped and Yinsen said, "They have decided that an American Bouda is different. They are arguing how to kill you."

Tony's ear twitched. Someone must have noticed because there was more shouting, and then something cold and heavy against his neck which jerked and rattled. He recognized it as the heavy chain they used for lifting. They'd made a makeshift collar from metal scrap and began dragging him along by it. Yinsen's protests were muted once they got past the cell door and slammed it shut behind them. They caught the tip of his tail, which annoyed Tony, as sensation was beginning to return. He opened his eyes. No wonder the collar was so heavy. They'd attached at least four lengths of chain to it, and several men hung onto each chain. Kinda flattering, actually.

The cave's lighting seemed brighter to him. One point for wolf sight. 

He could see the men all around him. He staggered to his feet and stood swaying, tail and head both low. There were too many guns pointed at him for him to make an aggressive move. He should have tested the parameters of his wolf form. He shouldn't have blithely ignored it all his life. Maybe he could walk through a hail of bullets. Maybe. But if he was wrong and died here, then who would help Yinsen?

He kept walking, going with the crowd, trying to memorize the route, which was difficult as his eyes were better suited to motion detection than sharp focus. Plus, you know, he couldn't see much past the men. He was short and stocky, as Yinsen had said. They got outside and he lifted his head to sniff the air. 

They walked for quite a while, jabbing Tony with rifles whenever he paused. Finally they stopped in a twisting ravine. At the entrance was a stone slab with heavy metal rings set in it. There were human skulls, patches of clothing, and rusty stains on the stone. Tony really didn't like the look of this. Most of the guns were now turned outward, as if Tony was the lesser threat. He _really_ didn't like this. They fastened his chains by heavy padlocks to the outermost rings, keeping him tethered in the center. He had a little freedom of movement, but there was no way he could reach the locks even if he had any way to pick them. 

The men were laughing now. Tony snarled at them, and was rewarded with a few stones thrown at him, but that didn't last long. One of the men pointed to the moon and shouted something, and then they all left, heading back the way they came. Tony fought the chain, clawed at the collar, tried throwing all of his weight against a single chain, hoping the ring would come free. None of it did any good.

He paused to catch his breath and try to think of something else to do. He heard something. His head came up and his ears swiveled. He was far better at locating the source of sounds in this form than as a man, so it took only an instant before he realized he was hearing claws scattering stones as a number of animals approached him directly. Not good, not good. Tony lowered his head and felt the hackles rise on his neck and along his back, making him appear larger. 

A wolf appeared around the twist of the ravine. Lean, slab-sided, yellow-eyed, dusty gray pelt. It was a lot smaller than Tony whose dark brown fur made him even more obvious against the pale rock. He figured he was the same mass as ever, one hundred and sixty pounds, and he must be close to six feet in length counting his tail. He was an impressive son-of-a-bitch. He snarled at the wolf, and it paused, but only for an instant. There was a pack behind it, and they'd obviously been habituated to killing helpless people left here. Tony had to admire the ingenuity of it. Teach wolves to consider humans their natural prey and then only well-armed groups would be safe from them. Normal villagers wouldn't come near their base, and even if the Americans learned of an area that was off-limits because of wolves, they'd think nothing of it. War had messed up the ecosystem and wolves were intelligent opportunists. 

There were over a dozen of them by the time the last one padded into view. They circled him, growling and making feints at him, rushing, then running away before he could snap. He was slower than they were, and hampered by the chain. He heard a rush behind his back, but he couldn't turn far enough, fast enough to stop the wolf from landing on his back to bite at his neck. He threw himself down and got his teeth into its leg, bearing down until the bone snapped. The blood tasted so good it made him feel sick. Before he could release the wounded wolf the rest of the pack leapt on him, biting at his legs, his belly, everywhere. It hurt, damn it. He was healing faster now, maybe adrenalin sped the response, he didn't know, hadn't got time to think about it, because he was kicking them off. They hamstrung his right hind leg, which slowed him down for a minute before it repaired itself. He bit, slashing sideways with his much larger fangs because biting and holding took too long, gave them more chance to get at him.

He clawed and fought viciously, blood in his nose and eyes so he had to blink and snort it clear while he ripped off ears, crunched leg bones like pretzels, used the claws on his hind legs to disembowel one that landed on his belly. He was buried under the pack, which actually made it easier, he could find a target with every snap, every claw.

The pack backed off, as if by a silent signal. Tony regained his feet and panted, watching them. He'd killed one, he noted, and several more were either maimed or dying. Wouldn't they realize he wasn't worth what he cost? Apparently not. The remaining wolves now began circling him again. If he turned to watch them, he tangled in the chain, so he stood still, ears swiveled to track them that way.

There was a rush, but before he could move his clumsy (by wolf standards, not human) legs he was hamstrung again and down on his side, rushed by the wolves who were now mostly biting at his haunches and belly, making it more difficult for him to reach them with his fangs. He caught one in the face, slashing an eye, and it screamed and they retreated again. Tony dragged himself up tight, pulling the damaged leg under himself. He sat tight the next time they attacked, not giving them the chance to reach the tendons in his back legs.

Tony had never been so tired in his life. The wolves seemed unable to resist the temptation to attack him, no matter how much damage he inflicted on the pack. If they stayed until dawn, until he was human, he would be a goner. 

The pack was down to six reasonably fit wolves by the time the sky began, barely perceptibly at first, to lighten. Tony braced himself mentally. When he changed, when he couldn't move, that would be the end. About all he could hope was that he wouldn't feel it when he was eaten alive.

The wolves were tired, too. They retreated from him and were panting, snarling softly, licking their wounds. One of them sniffed, yawned and stretched before licking the muzzle of one of the other wolves. And then it trotted off in the direction from which they'd come. A moment later the second wolf followed it. Tony watched, not believing his luck, as the wolves who could walk followed the others, in single file.

He laid his head down on his paws and sighed, ignoring the whimpers of the dying wolves. What he wouldn't give for a cup of coffee.

 

A collar meant to fit wolf-Tony's thick neck was just big enough to go over human Tony's head. There was a moment of panicked near-suffocation involved, but then he was free. He got up and started walking in the opposite direction the pack had taken, with no plan in mind except to put some distance between him and this horrible place. Bare-ass naked, and worse, barefoot, he knew he wouldn't be able to withstand the full day, but maybe he could find shade, some kind of shelter if he hot-footed it now, before that became literal.

He kept his head down, watching his footing and wishing the wolf instant healing also worked in his human form. He was already limping and leaving spots of blood behind him. Not much, but he knew how clear a trail that would be to a wolf. The morning was well on its way to 'fuck it's hot' by the time he heard the sound of an engine. A truck. Almost certainly from the terrorists' motor pool. He stopped. Stood there indecisively, and then sank to his heels in the sand. He couldn't run, couldn't fight, couldn't hide. If they were coming to finish him off there wasn't much he could do about it. Yinsen had begun teaching him Dari, one of their most common languages, and he ran through his limited vocabulary, trying to think what to say.

The truck pulled up in front of him and stopped. The driver's side door opened and a man got out. Tony squinted against the sun. Bald guy, gaudy red ring on his right hand. Oh, yeah, Raza. One of the big cheeses. Maybe the gorgonzola himself. Tony didn't bother to get up. Raza spoke English fluently and was apparently well educated, according to Yinsen. Tony considered making a flippant remark, but there had already been enough pain this morning. 

Raza strode over to him and put his hand on Tony's chin, lifting and turning his head to examine him, like a melon in the market. Tony heard the slide-click of numerous weapons being readied for firing, so he restricted his protest to a widening of his eyes. Raza said, in a contemplative tone, "My men are superstitious fools, but apparently in this they were not mistaken." His hand shifted, angling to press Tony's head further back, so their eyes met. Tony swallowed against the pressure. "I saw the wolves. The marks on them. No man could have done that." His thumb stroked in a mocking caress over Tony's jawline. "You will give me this. What I could do with a cadre of human wolves would be even better than your guns."

Tony swallowed again. Saying 'no' would just bring back the good old water barrel. Been there; done that.

Raza shoved Tony towards the truck. "Just think of it. You have helped create an entirely new weapon. Don't worry, I will make sure the world knows who to thank."

 

Tony stumbled over a familiar pile of chains as he climbed into the truck. Raza was frugal, Tony thought. One of the men threw him a blanket. Tony wrapped it around himself and sat on the bench, surrounded by hostile people who didn't dare kill him because it would piss off the boss. It made him nostalgic for S.I. board meetings. He closed his eyes, mentally said 'fuck it', and fell asleep as the truck bounced over the non-road, with the sun beating down on the thin canvas covering it.

 

"What? I'm awake!" Tony jerked his head up and looked around. The truck had stopped. He was pushed to his feet and jumped down from the back of the truck with his guards. The truck drove off revealing a familiar black hole in the side of the mountain. Home sweet cave. Raza said something in whatever language it was, and Tony was hustled back into the cave. This time they didn't bother with blindfolding him. They also didn't stop to give him any clothes either, so by the time they dumped him back in his old cell, Tony was shivering so hard his teeth chattered. They dumped the collar and chains down on the floor and left, slamming and locking the door behind them.

"Stark!" Yinsen grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a swift shake before releasing him.. "I thought you were dead."

"Nnn..nah... Jus... just had a little reunion with the other side of the family. Hey, do we have any tea?"

"Yes, of course." Yinsen went to their little cooking area and lit the fire under a pan of water.

Tony found his clothes and quickly pulled them on. "Got a new contract."

"Oh?" 

"Raza wants a creature factory."

"What?" Yinsen turned to face him. 

"Yeaah. He wants... he was impressed by me. He wants werewolves. I guess that means we stop work on the Jericho." Tony adjusted his fingerless gloves and flexed his hands, without looking into Yinsen's eyes.

"I see." 

 

A few hours later, while Tony and Yinsen were trying to busywork something that would look like werewolf-making research the door crashed open. They'd only got as far as Petri dishes filled with colored slime and fizzy, bubbling chemicals in retorts-- _totally_ convincing. They were so screwed. Tony braced himself to protest that he hadn't time to even begin when he realized none of the big shots were in the crowd. At the forefront there was a guy carrying a small bucket of what looked like black enamel paint with a thin brush stuck in it. The painter shouted at Yinsen.

Yinsen translated. "You are to take off your clothes. This man says he knows magic to stop you from turning into a wolf."

"Huh." Tony blinked. "Does Raza know about this?"

More translation, then Yinsen said, "Raza has given his permission. It is only symbols he wishes to paint on your skin."

"Ok, fine." Tony hadn't much modesty, but it sure was cold in here, so he stripped quickly and stood as still as he could while what looked to him like half-assed combinations of astrological and alchemical symbols were painted on his upper arms and thighs. And there was some stuff put on his back, but he couldn't see that. He was pretty sure Raza thought this was bullcrap, but it was an easy thing to give his men.

While the painting was going on, Tony was the center of attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yinsen casually pick up a vial of acid and edge over to the chains. He poured some over one link on each of the four chains about midway up where it would be unlikely to be noticed. Tony loved the way Yinsen thought. The man was a genius.

 

Not long after that, the men came back. This time Raza was with them. "I've changed my mind," he said. "Man or wolf, you are too dangerous."

"Wait! What?" was all Tony had a chance to say before they put the collar on him. It was loose but he didn't have a chance to take it off before they grabbed his arms and hustled him along with the chains dragging behind. He was thrown in the back of a truck again, and surrounded by men who weren't in the least disposed to friendliness. This didn't make any sense, not even the crazy sense he'd learned to expect from these people.

 

He was taken back to the same place. The wolf carcasses were greatly reduced. Eaten. Tony wasn't sure whether he felt disgusted by the evidence of cannibalism or relieved by the thought that the remaining members of the pack would be well fed and presumably less motivated to hunt. He sat in the middle of the stone, morosely watching the men who watched him. They backed up to quite a good distance, but since several of them had sniperscope rifles that didn't mean he could fiddle with the collar with impunity. After a while he decided to take off as much of his clothing as he could, on the off chance that he'd be alive in the morning and want it. He piled the clothes up and sat on them, equal parts bored and scared.

 

The sun finally went down. Tony lay down and made himself as comfortable as he could for the change, but he kept his eyes open this time. It would only take a few minutes. He'd be fine. He was entering the paralysis stage when he heard claws on stone. Coming from another direction. And it was a lot more than six. Oh. Hell. Another pack moving in because the residents were no longer strong enough to defend the territory. Oh. Shit. They came closer. He heard them feeding on the carcasses. He heard them padding around him, sniffing. He saw one come up in front of his face, come close and touch him with its wet nose. 

And then it started biting his shoulder. Tony panicked totally, losing bodily control in ways that would have been embarrassing in other circumstances, but at the moment was totally irrelevant. He could _feel_ the wolf starting to feed on him. There was no pain, and the first tentative bites healed swiftly, but the wolf kept biting. He heard a gunshot and a wolf yelped. The change rushed over him faster than ever before and in a different way, rippling over his head and up his arms, giving him fangs and claws first. He threw back his head and snarled, rising to his knees and pulling at the chains, throwing all his weight against them, one after the other. Three of the weakened links snapped, shearing clean and flying away. The wolves scattered, a volley of gunshots picking them off until the survivors turned and fled. Tony pulled at the last chain, but before he could get it to break, men ran up to him and threw a camouflage net over him, tangling him and wrapping him until he could barely move.

He was still snarling when Raza appeared, tugging nightsight glasses down to dangle around his neck. "So. I had to see for myself. And I need to test this, also." He took out a knife and sliced a line along Tony's now furred foreleg. The flesh parted, bled, and healed, so fast it was like drawing a knife through cake batter. "Remarkable."

The last chain was released from the ring in the stone. Raza's men picked Tony up, still wrapped in the net, and snarling, trying to bite anything he could reach. Raza stroked Tony's head and smiled.

 

Tony Wolf was dumped, net, chain, collar and all on the floor by Yinsen's feet. "My men said you spoke to the animal as if it understood you," Raza said without preamble.

Yinsen was white pale, but he nodded immediately. "Yes. Mr. Stark's mind is intact. He can't speak, but he understands me."

"Good. My wolf-men would be of limited use if they could not obey my commands. You will release him. If you are lying he will tear out your throat, and I shall have to find another doctor. I hope you are not lying." Raza and his men left the cell, bolting the door behind them.

Yinsen looked down at Tony. He took off his eyeglasses, rubbed them, and put them back on. "I think I will need the scissors."

 

It took quite a while to get everything off of Tony. When he was finally free, Tony shook himself and stared at Yinsen. Yinsen shrugged and fetched the backgammon board, placing it on the little table they used for playing. "I will roll and move for you, if you like."

Tony whuffed and sat next to the table, laying his head on the edge. They were so, so screwed.

 

The next morning, Tony changed back to human, got dressed (someone had brought his clothes from the stone which Tony would have thought more kindly of if they hadn't been dosed with something that smelled a lot like flea powder), and shared the usual rice gruel with Yinsen who solemnly said,"We cannot recreate the serum."

"No. I agree." Tony was so damn hungry. He'd wolfed out two nights in a row, and not got any meat at all. He thought wistfully of the steaks Jarvis would cut up for him, serve on fine china, and call 'tartar'.

"We lack the gamma radiation module which your father used on you," Yinsen said.

Tony managed to swallow his tea calmly, instead of choking on it. Yinsen would be an awesome troll. He could lie better than anyone Tony had ever met. "Yeah, we can't keep faking it forever. It's not like the Jericho. That we could build with the available materials. Have to adapt things, but it's possible." And if they could get permission to return to metal working, Tony's plan could work. Another week and the basics should be done.

Yinsen nodded.

 

The hypothetical English-speaking guy monitoring them was either really fast, or Raza had been doing his own eavesdropping. The cell door opened just as Yinsen was putting away the tea things, and Raza strode in at the head of yet another horde of armed minions. In tactical terms, that many armed men in one stone-walled room was a mistake. They'd wind up shooting each other. After, of course, thoroughly ventilating Tony and Yinsen. Tony put his hands on top of his head and waited for Raza to declare that he'd changed his mind and they'd better whip him up a Jericho, tout de suite.

Raza made a gesture and two of his men grabbed Yinsen and pushed his head down onto the table. He casually picked up a pair of tongs and extracted a lump of hot coal from the brazier they used to provide a little warmth. He blew on the coal, making it burn red. "Open your lying mouth."

Yinsen's eyes were wide with terror, but he didn't move. 

"Lying?" Tony said, stepping forward, with his hands still atop his head. "No, look..." He froze as the sound like a sudden hailstorm told him all the guns in the room were ready to blow him into very small bits. "We'll do it. We'll figure out a way. You just have to give us more time."

Raza held the tongs up for a moment, and then dropped the coal on the table, close enough to Yinsen to make him wince. "You have one more day. Tomorrow you either give me the wolf, or I kill this worthless doctor." He left the room, trailing his horde behind him.

Yinsen stood up, shaking. He resettled his eyeglasses in place. Tony went over to the table and used the tongs to put the coal back in the brazier. He didn't look at Yinsen. They knew it was hopeless. There was no way they could finish the armor in a day.

"We must work hard," Yinsen said. "Come, I have a new idea. I will show you the formula I am considering, and you will tell me where it differs from your father's."

Tony followed Yinsen to the table where the pieced together schematics for the armor lay. He began writing. Tony moved to block off the surveillance camera. Yinsen wrote, _"Tonight we use explosive on the door once you are wolf. There is a village you can reach, if you run all night. They are friendly to US, and can call your base."_

"Uh, no," Tony said out loud. "There's a problem. Here." He took the pencil and wrote, _"Not leaving you behind. We had a plan."_

"I don't see any problem." Yinsen took back the pencil. _"Your plan. Not mine. I will diagram the stars you follow to find the..."_

Tony grabbed the pencil. "No, no, no! I keep telling you my math is infallible. Look and learn." Tony wrote, _"I promised I would get you back to your family."_ He let Yinsen take the pencil.

"Mathematics isn't everything, Mr. Stark. You must take into consideration biology, and the human heart." He wrote, _"I will join them. They are dead. Your plan was naive and impossible. I was to follow you and steal a truck, with you fighting Raza's men off? You only have enough fuel for a few minutes. You would soon run out and be recaptured."_

Tony found another pencil and a new piece of paper. "I take everything into consideration. Here, see this variation." He dug the pencil into the paper hard enough to tear it. _"I would have wiped out the camp. I know how to detonate my own weapons. Then I'd take off."_

Yinsen said, "This is a formula for disaster. It would blow up in your face." He wrote, _"Naive and impossible. Americans believe in fairy tales with happy endings, thanks to Mr. Disney. Real fairy tales end in death."_

"You should have more faith in my abilities."

"You should... you should be more cautious." Yinsen wrote, _"Don't waste your life."_

Tony wrote, _"You taught me not to give up, and now you're going back on it?"_ Aloud, he said, "Right now, we can't afford to be cautious. So this is a risk, what isn't?" He added to the paper, _"Your family is dead. But Gulmira isn't. You still have people who need you. I need you. Don't bow out gracefully on me."_

"You're very stubborn, Mr. Stark."

"Yeah." Tony smiled. "So, any more bad ideas? I am open to suggestions. You're the doctor, after all."

"Well... perhaps... see what you think of this." Yinsen tapped at the paper and then wrote. _Our blood is compatible. I test-typed it both ways before I gave you a transfusion of my own blood after your operation."_

"Oh," Tony said out loud. "I think I see where you're heading. I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"Well, you did ask for bad ideas, Mr. Stark." He wrote, _"It's the thinnest thread. Even if the serum is transmissible via transfusion, it might not give me the same abilities as yours. Even if it did, it seems unlikely to take full effect in time."_

"That's true. And I do love to gamble. Great plan! I love it! Let's go with it!" Tony snatched up all the schematics, not just the ones they'd written on and took them over to the brazier. "Little ceremony for good luck," he said as he wadded up the paper and put it in the brazier, poking it until it was all reduced to ash. He'd only drawn them for Yinsen, after all. The armor was in his mind. He could recreate it at any time. Better, when he wasn't using scrap metal.

 

It was a little tricky setting up a transfusion under the all-seeing eye, but hey, two geniuses here, they managed. A lot of funky fake chemistry happened along the way. Mr. Wizard would have been appalled. The explosives were set up by the door during a pink smoke blackout. There were also horrible stinks that crept out under the door, to discourage casual visitors.

After that they just feverishly combined things and looked very, very busy. This worked for a while, but then Raza came in and looked at the equipment. "You think I am a fool? These are magic tricks for children!"

Tony opened his mouth to try to say something, anything, to put Raza off the scent, but Raza laughed at him and gestured to his men, who brought in another net and wrapped Tony up in it, rolling him on the floor in a cocoon of camouflage. "You think you have a great beast inside you." Raza kicked Tony in the thigh. "You are only a puppy, soft and foolish. I will show you what happens to those who try to trick Raza."

The moon rose in Tony's blood. Raza watched closely as Tony became the wolf and fought the net, but he was bound too tightly for any leverage. He snapped a few strands, but not enough. Not nearly enough. He looked desperately at Yinsen, who shook his head slightly. Raza's men forced him to sit on a chair, turned to face Tony.

"This will be a lesson for you, puppy." Raza smiled and drew the knife lightly across Yinsen's throat, just touching, not cutting. "I can be merciful." Yinsen closed his eyes. "But I do not choose to." Raza slashed Yinsen's throat. The blood spurted. Tony howled. Yinsen leaped from the chair and fell onto the floor, convulsing. Raza leaned down to wipe the blade off on Yinsen's shirt.

Yinsen rolled over and grabbed Raza's hand. 

Raza shouted and tried to pull away. Yinsen's grip tightened. Claws emerged from his fingers, digging in deeply. Fur raced up his arm, disappearing under his shirt, showing at his throat where the wound was gone. Raza yelled at his men; Tony didn't understand the words but from the gestures he was pretty sure it was "SHOOT, SHOOT." Yinsen dragged Raza on top of himself just before the men started firing. Raza screamed and went limp. Yinsen dropped the body and rose to all fours, clawing and ripping at his clothes. His teeth had grown sharp, but were not as long as Tony's and his muzzle and ears were shorter too. His eyes were golden, and so was his fur. Well, for a moment, before black spots and blotches appeared. He kicked off his trousers, and a long, thin tail emerged, whipping back and forth to help express his anger.

He was still changing, but unlike Tony, he obviously had no problem moving before the transformation was complete. The men kept firing at him. Yinsen yawned at them. He stretched and deliberately spat out the bullets.

Holy shit, Tony thought. Yinsen squalled then, and Tony was quite sure the men facing him all pissed themselves before running away, screaming. Yinsen made a few huffing, chuffing noises as he came over to Tony to claw him free. Tony got to his feet and tore off his own clothing before giving himself a good shake. He touched noses with Yinsen's leopard form.

Tony gave a tail-wag. Yinsen replied with a brief purr, and then he padded to the door and looked both ways. Tony let him take the lead, not only because Yinsen was proven bulletproof, but because Tony still didn't know the way.

He would really have liked to blow up the place before they left, but lacking fingers that pleasure was denied him.

 

Yinsen was faster than Tony in short bursts, but Tony had more stamina, so they wound up with Yinsen racing ahead and Tony loping steadily along following his nose until he caught up with the resting leopard. Tony lost count of how many times they did this before they reached their destination. Tony scented the village long before they saw it. Well, he scented the freshly manured pepper and spinach fields. It wasn't yet dawn, so they lay downwind, to avoid alerting the village guard dogs, and rested, backs together and looking out for each other. Tony thought Rhodey would definitely approve that Tony finally had someone to watch his back.

 

The sun came up, turning the dull sand and rock briefly to gold, and Tony and Yinsen back to human. Yinsen waited patiently for Tony's paralysis to pass before he said, "This is where we shall part company, Mr. Stark." He held out his hand. "I am proud to have known you."

Tony pulled Yinsen into a hug and then stepped back to look into his face. Yinsen looked odd without his glasses. "Listen, I'm going to halt arms production at S.I. Start over. The arc reactor can be adapted to help the whole world. I could use an advisor. Someone to help me not stomp on people while I'm changing the world."

Yinsen hesitated, and then nodded. "I suppose I could try. For a little while."

"Good, yeah. Anyway, we need to find out the parameters of your shape-shifting. Is it a permanent ability? Do you have the same cycle as I do? You need to stay out of the public eye until we're sure you won't go all spotty in the middle of a press conference."

"Wait, wait, you go too fast!" Yinsen smiled. "Yes, it would be good to know these things. I suspect my change was due to other factors than timing." Yinsen touched his throat where there wasn't even a line to show the wound Raza had inflicted. "I was... quite perturbed."

"Yeah. Gotcha." Tony grinned at Yinsen. "Do you think there are any fig trees here?"

"Well, yes, it is possible, but why do you... oh." Yinsen smiled. "From the Christian Bible. I have never quite understood how that was meant to work."

"Like fan dancers," Tony said. He started walking down the slope towards the village. He could see movement, people and their domestic animals, starting their day. "You know, one hand in front, one behind?"

"I think it would look ridiculous." Yinsen came up behind Tony and put a hand on his shoulder. "I do not see well," he explained. "I would rather not introduce myself by tripping over a stone."

"Sure, fine. I'll be your seeing-eye wolf." Tony walked slow enough not to dislodge Yinsen's hand. "How were your eyes as the leopard?"

"Good. Different, but good." 

They continued chatting until they reached the outlying scattered orchards where a couple large dogs noticed them and began barking. A child who was sitting in a tree, picking apples and dropping them to another child with a basket waiting below, cried out and men ran out from the village in response. Tony didn't understand what they were saying, but they sounded more excited and surprised than angry, and all of them stared at his arc reactor so much he wished he had found a fig tree. He watched Yinsen's expression for a clue how their reception was going.

Yinsen spoke rapidly, but Tony caught a few words here and there: Tony Stark. American. Yinsen. When Yinsen said his own name someone in the group surrounding them asked, "Gulmira?"

Yinsen nodded and the looks of the crowd turned to sympathy. A boy pattered up, carrying a bundle of robes, which he held out to Tony and Yinsen. Yinsen smiled and told Tony, "They ask if we would like something to eat while we wait for the Americans."

"God, yes," Tony said, pulling on the robe and happily accepting the pair of sandals another little boy brought. "And do they have coffee?"

 

Tony and Yinsen sat on a low stone wall, eating rice with raisins and carrots, scooped up with naan bread. In between bites, Tony was telling stories to the children who were gathered around, with Yinsen translating (and probably censoring the best bits.) "Oh, listen." Tony tilted his head, to better catch the sound. "I think that's our ride."

The children leaped off the wall and ran to see the American helicopters set down. Dogs barked, chickens ran around underfoot, and the villagers watched this interesting break in their work day.

"Rhodey!" Tony hopped off the wall, and ran to greet his friend, hugging Rhodey so hard he nearly knocked him over.

"Next time you come with me!" Rhodey said, the affection rough and honest in his voice as he patted Tony on the back.

Tony closed his eyes, trying to keep tears from leaking out even as he laughed. After a moment he said, muffled against Rhodey's uniform, "Got someone I want you to meet. I'd never have made it without him. Yinsen! Come and meet my other best friend, Colonel James Rhodes. But call him Rhodey, everyone does."

"If by everyone, you mean you, Tony." Rhodey held out a hand to Yinsen. "Thanks for helping Tones. I know he's a pain, so you must be a saint."

"Hey!" Tony protested. "Well, yeah, all right, I can be a son of a bitch, and Yinsen's a real pussycat. It's true."

Yinsen smiled at Rhodey as he shook his hand. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Colonel Rhodes."

"Ok, now that we got that out of the way, how about we get you back to base." Rhodey had been pretending not to look at the reactor, but now he glanced down at the glow beneath Tony's borrowed robe. "Get you checked out by a doctor."

Tony made a face. "Got my own doctor here, Dr. Yinsen. Personal physician. Never go anywhere without him. I'm taking him home with me."

Yinsen looked as if he was going to protest Tony's possessiveness, but then he shrugged. "I have never been to California. Why not?"

Rhodey considered it for a moment and then shrugged. "Yeah, ok, you can fight that out with the generals."

"They love me, I'll win," Tony said smugly. He started walking to the helicopter after putting Yinsen's hand on his shoulder. "He lost his glasses," he explained to Rhodey. "There was.... yeah, bad guys. We'll tell you about it later."

They were almost to the helicopter when a villager ran up, shouting and waving. He reached them and spoke rapidly to Yinsen. Yinsen's eyes widened and he let go of Tony to grab the man and kiss him on both cheeks. He turned back to Tony. He was crying. "Farshad says he has spoken to a man in Gulmira. Kourash is alive. My son is alive!"

Tony grinned. "Yo, Rhodey! Change of plans. Detour to Gulmira first!"

They climbed into the helicopter. Tony sighed in satisfaction as they sat down, squeezed in between airmen. "This is gonna be great. I can't wait for you to meet Obie, Yinsen. He always said I needed a mentor."

**Author's Note:**

> Tony's other form is a Dire Wolf, a prehistoric canine slightly larger (but with shorter, sturdier legs) than the Gray Wolf. Tony Wolf, at 160 pounds, is near the upper range of their size. The Dire Wolf is presumed to have gone extinct because it was slower than the Gray Wolf and so failed in competition for the remaining small prey during the die-out of large, slow-moving species for which the Dire Wolf's more sturdy body and larger, better equipped to slice, teeth gave it an advantage over the Gray Wolf.
> 
> Yinsen's other form is a Persian Leopard. They are an endangered species; some were recently confirmed to live in Afghanistan . They're large, weighing up to 200 pounds. Yinsen Leopard is around 180 pounds. He's at the dark golden end of their coloration range.


End file.
